A MERRY MAFIA CHRISTMAS (GxG)

XIV

Before I could think about it, I forced myself to walk—very, very quickly. Almost too quick for even myself to keep up with. My legs felt shaky and weak, and my head began to pound. Suddenly I wanted to cry even if I didn't necessarily want to, which probably explains why my cheeks feel damp.

Was I crying in front of all those people? It's like everything blacked out around me. All I could process was voices and the concerned look on Leo's face.

When I made it to the elevator, I quickly pressed the up button, which luckily made one of the elevator's ding open almost immediately.

I clicked level eight as I looked at myself on the shiny elevator wall that acted as a foggy mirror. My reflection held the same look I gave myself the night it happened... telling myself I'll be okay. That I have to be okay. But I still feel him.

Everywhere.

I flinched when the elevator dinged, the doors opening completely to let me off. My first thought was water. I was thirsty and I needed water. What came after didn't matter.

And surprisingly, I greeted that thought with open arms, knowing it took my mind off the current matter.

Before I could think about it, I was in the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a cold bottle of water. My skin felt clammy and I felt completely disgusted.

Maybe with myself?

Every day I regret that night. I regret letting him—

I flinched when a gentle hand grabbed my shoulder. The only thoughts coating my head were of him, and I swear It was one of the most dreadful feelings.

I should've never come tonight. If I didn't I wouldn't be in this predicament.

Armani's jaw was tensed, her brows furrowed. "What happened? Did someone hurt you?" she asked, her tone urgent. I easily picked up on her clenched jaw, furrowed brows, and the cold expression on her face. She seemed angry—much angrier than I had ever seen her before.

If looks could kill...

I quickly noticed the gun poking out of the side of her black dress pants, but I decided I wouldn't let my mind wander there. To the thought of Armani actually using a gun.

Then again, what did I expect? She's a mafia boss, why wouldn't she use a gun?

Armani followed my line of sight, noticing that I noticed the gun. Within mere seconds, the gun was out of her waistband and on the kitchen island.

The gun didn't matter currently. That wasn't the thing roaming my head, but she didn't know that. I wish she did. I wished that she could make all the horrible thoughts go away.

And... she could just in a different way then I imagined.

Before I could think about it further, I reached out for her, pulling our bodies together as tears began to coat my face fully.

Armani hesitantly wrapped her arms around me, and I could tell the entire embrace caught her off guard. She rested a delicate hand over the back of my head, her other hand pressed firmly to my upper back.

I leaned into her slightly, initiating a kiss that I knew I shouldn't have been initiating in the first place.

What am I doing? What am I doing? Is all I could think as I leaned in further to Armani's touch, wanting to forget about any of the bad thoughts crawling my mind.

Wanting her touch to replace his.

Her body tensed, pulling back slightly, her dark eyes analyzing my face fully. "Miracle, darling, what are you doing?"

I pulled back from her, feeling mortified that I even put her in this predicament. Put us in this predicament. She's my boss. She's everyone's fucking boss actually.

"I'm so sorry—"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she said, cutting my apology short as her dark eyes stared into mine. Seconds later, her lips were pursed as she glanced behind me, which made my brows furrow in confusion. "Come on," she said, guiding us toward the tall double doors past the kitchen.

Hesitantly, I followed her to what turned out to be her bedroom. It was like my room, but much-much—much bigger. The bed looked like it was made of two king beds and the one glass wall—which led out to the patio—only made it all feel bigger. What did she do with all this space? She walked over toward one of the two black doors which I assumed led to a bathroom and a closet.

When she entered the one room, it instantly illuminated, making it clear that it was one of those motion lights. The room looked huge from where I was standing and I could easily see the floor-to-ceiling clear organizers which held folded clothes. I walked over toward the room, noticing other details of the room, like the wall covered in a shiny mirror, and other clothes hanging up.

Armani walked over to me, handing me a folded black t-shirt and matching sweatpants. "Here, get changed and I'll grab you another water."

Before I could decline her order or even say so much as no—she was out of the room, closing the closet door behind her.

With slightly parted lips, I turned around, admiring the room silently. Her clothes were impeccably folded, and all of the clothes that were hung up seemed to be completely wrinkle-free. There was even a wall dedicated to her heels, and I also noticed loafers and sneakers—I wonder what she looked like wearing something so casual.

Seriously, this was the most organized closet I had seen.

I sat down on the black leather bench placed in the middle of the room, sliding my heels off and placing them down on the furry black rug beneath me. I peeled my dress off me completely before pulling on the oversized black t-shirt and furry sweatpants lingering with Armani's familiar scent—which were actually the most comfortable sweatpants I had ever worn.

I wonder what she looked like in sweatpants and only a t-shirt. I had never witnessed her in any casual looks before.

I stood from the bench folding my dress in my hands and grabbing my heels before exiting the closet completely. But before I could, I hesitated. I didn't exactly want to face what I just did. Was she going to comment on it?

Probably. But I didn't want to talk about it. How easy I would've been if she would've went for it. Maybe that would've been better than getting rejected though. I wanted to forget it ever happened and distract myself with something else. If I couldn't have sex, I knew something else that I could have.

I peered over at the other door, assuming or maybe hoping it was a bathroom.

I walked away from the door leading back to the bedroom and entered the bathroom. I didn't know what I was searching for, but I needed something. It's like all this pent-up anxiety combined with anger and sadness—and now embarrassment wanted to escape.

Like a bomb without an explosion. I needed to find a way to explode.

I didn't have time to take in the large bathroom like I normally would've, instead I headed straight to the shiny sink, turning the water onto the hottest setting.

Before I could contemplate it, I impatiently put half my hand under the steaming water, wincing in the process.

I counted to myself, one...two...three...four...five—until the explosive feelings faded and my body relaxed into a slump.

I let out a relieved breath, pulling my hand away from the scorching hot water. My hand was red and pumping, but somewhere beneath the external pain—my internal pain was washed away. Tears of relief slid down my cheeks as I breathed slowly with myself, basking in the few seconds of freedom.

It was a terrible habit of coping that I had broken, but something told me it would be happening again.